Declarations of Love
by Sadie Dragonfire
Summary: [Sequel to "Subjected to Rumor", SLASH] Love is in the air, everywhere I look around....


**Title:** Declarations of Love  
**Part:** 1/1  
**Warning:** Bad humor, bad writing, OOC, weirdness, possible squick. Not beta'd Read at your own risk.   
**Disclaimer:** Characters, locations, and concept property of J.K. Rowling and wouldn't she be just pissed to find what I'm doing with them? No money made, spent, or rolled in naked.   
**Pairing:** oh jeez 

**Second Warning:** Contains **SLASH**! Boys liking other boys and wanting to get jiggy wid it with said boys. There are so many reasons to find this fic offence...don't let this be one of them. 

**Notes:** If you haven't read "Subjected to Rumor", you won't get the Ron/Neville parts, but other than that it pretty much stands on its own. This came into being when I was thinking about the standard 'Draco comes out to his parents' scene. What if it turned out totally different from what he expected? The whole fic just snowballed from there. 

___________ 

"I'm in love with Harry Potter." 

Lucius Malfoy looked up from the paperwork he was signing and frowned at his son. "But you're so tall." 

Draco glanced down at his five foot, six inches frame, and demanded, in understandable confusion, "What?" 

"He means you will be tall, dear heart," Narcissa spoke up consolingly from where she sat with her needle point, "Just give it a few more years and you'll sprout like a weed, I'm sure of it!" She clucked her tongue in an affectionate manner and did another snitch. 

"I'm seventeen, I don't think…wait!" Draco swung back to his father, who was again immersed in business dealings. "Didn't you hear me? I'm in love with Harry Potter! In love! With Potter!" 

Lucius made a disgusted sound, looking up over the top of his reading glasses. "Yes," he said, "I heard you. And if it's my blessings you're after, you won't be getting it. Why isn't Potter here himself, telling me this with you?" 

"Because you'd curse him, hog tie him, and present him to Voldemort soon as set foot inside the door?" Draco suggested snidely. 

His father snorted and moved onto another pile of paperwork. "Beside the point." 

"Oh God." Draco rubbed at the building headache in his temple. "Look, I don't think you understand. I'm in love with Harry Potter. *The* Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lives Despite Everyone's Attempts To Make It Otherwise. The boy you *hate* for continuously foiling your plans? Ringing any bells here?" 

"We know who you're talking about. And don't get go so snide with me," Lucius warned, "I can still dangle you headfirst over the moat and don't you think I won't. Of course I hate him. No father likes the brute that's been violating his innocent little girl----" 

"I'm not a girl!" 

"---oh, and that makes it better? Why, he didn't even ask for my permission to date you," Lucius added, "Going against the sacred plan of my Lord Voldemort is one thing. Not presenting himself to me like a *proper* man is something entirely." 

Draco covered his face and moaned in despair. 

"Oh stop it, honey." Narcissa waved a teasing hand at her husband. "Don't be so disapproving. I think its wonderfully romantic, sweetie," she continued to Draco, "You should follow your heart. Wherever it may lead you. Do you want a June or August wedding?" 

"NO! No, we're not getting married!" Draco howled in a sudden panic, inching backwards toward the door. "We're just sha---I mean, look, can't you just start ragging and ranting about how I've violated the family honor and throw me in the dungeon or something?" 

The two adults glanced at each in utter confusion. "Now why would we do a thing like that?" 

"Honestly, Draco, is that how you think of us?" Narcissa asked, pale hands fluttering to her mouth like obese butterflies, "To harm our only son over a teenage love affair?" 

"Mother," Draco started uneasily; somewhat lost as to what exactly was going on here. "That's not what I meant..." 

The glimmering of tears upon Narcissa's lashes vanished swiftly and she smiled with all the brilliance of the first rays of the morning sun coming over the mountains. "Oh, I know you didn't, love, I know." 

It seemed her medication was in full swing, Draco decided. 

Lucius shook his head and shifted uneasily in his chair. "Look Draco, its not any easy thing for a man when his precious daughter---" 

"I'm your son, damnit!" 

"You know, the doctor originally thought you were a girl when you born. "--Grows up, falls in love and, does the *other* adult things," he continued over them, "But I'm not going to punish you for it. Being a teenager is all hormones anyways, it's a wonder you haven't been shagging the table legs." 

A twitch started up in Draco's right cheek and it was he could do to keep from running down the hall screaming. This was not going how he thought it would. 

"I have an idea," said Narcissa, clapping her hand brightly, "Why don't we invite Harry over for a nice sit down dinner, hmm? Doesn't that sound nice? Then we can all get to know each other…" 

"That would be prefect," Lucius interrupted swiftly. Narcissa winked at Draco and he stared at her like she'd gone stark raving bonkers. "Just give me a chance to inform…um," he paused, looking shiftily over at Draco, "Ah…people. Yes, people who would be interested in sacrificing…err, that is, meetings! Right, I'll have to cancel meetings so I can be free to enjoy a fine dinner with my…son…and his ah, boyfriend." 

Satisfied with his airtight cover, Lucius pulled out fresh scrolls to write letters to his fellow Deatheaters. 

"That's wonderful dear," chimed Narcissa, "I'll start arranging the dinner right away!" 

"No!" Draco shouted, stomping his foot with the all the fury of a slighted three-year-old, "There will be no dinners, no weddings, nothing of the sort! I will not put Harry in danger by bringing him into this house! He does *that* well enough on his own." Draco held his head up proudly; suddenly misty eyed with emotion. "I love him, and if you can't accept that…then, then…I'll just leave!" 

With that declaration, Draco spun on his heels and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. The two adults looked rather bemused by this display of adolescent devotion. 

"Did you ever have that sort of conviction for me, Lucius sweetie?" Narcissa simpered. 

"Not for a second," snapped her husband, annoyed at having missed the chance to get Harry Potter within his grasp. 

Suddenly, the door flew open again and Draco walked in, with considerably less drama than he left. He strode up this father's desk and placed a scrap of parchment on it. "Could you have the house elves pack up my stuff and send it here? Oh, and forward my mail. I'll see you at Christmas. Kisses!" 

And in a swirl of black robe, he was gone. 

____________________________________ 

"I'm in love with Draco Malfoy." 

Hermione gave Harry a flat look. 

Harry had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry, just felt the need to say it." He started to go back to his dinner, only to stop again when he noticed what Hermione was eating. "Pickles on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?" 

"Just a craving. It's not bad," Hermione said, "Try some?" She held out the uneaten half. Harry grimaced and shook his head. They went back to eating. 

____________________________________ 

"Ron, we want you to know that we both love you very much." 

Ron Weasley took another bite of his chocolate frog and grinned at his parents. "Thanks, love you too." 

Molly and Arthur shared a nervous look. They stood uneasily next to the couch where their son was contentedly going through his left over Christmas candy. Molly twisted her hands in her apron; Arthur adjusted his collar. 

"Ron," Molly said, "I think we should have a talk." 

Ron froze, those words lashing terror through him. "I haven't done anything!" he babbled automatically, mentally reviewing his actions over the last few months and formulating excuses for the really naughty ones. 

"Oh no, its nothing like that," Molly insisted, patting the air in a calming gesture as she sat in the armchair across from the couch. Arthur took up a position behind her left shoulder, the stereotypical silently looming father figure----or he would have been if he looked less like child hiding behind his mother's skirts. 

Swallowing a few times to clear his mouth of saliva and chocolate, Ron watched his parents warily. If it was just dad coming to talk to him, he wouldn't be worried at all, but his mother frightened him. She didn't look angry, though; just really nervous and fidgety. What was this all about? 

"Ron…" she said, rubbing her hands together, "We're your parents and we love you no matter what. Nothing could ever change that. You know that, don't you?" 

"Yes," Ron said slowly, looking up at them through his lashes. She was building up to something and Ron doubted he wanted to find out what it was. 

"Honey, is there something you want to tell us?" 

Ooh, dilemma. If they already had something in mind, and he admitted to it, he could spare some punishment by coming clean now. On the other hand, they could know squat or be talking about something else entirely, in which case anything he said would make it worse. 

"No," he said finally, after a moment of serious deliberation. Disappointment reflected itself on his parent's faces and Ron gamely braced himself for the coming blow. 

"Oh Ron," Mrs. Weasley sighed, "You should know that there is nothing, absolutely nothing--- oh, well, maybe that's an exaggeration---very *little* that you could say or---or be!---that would make us stop loving you! You know you can tell us anything!" 

Ron wasn't the cleverest fish in the barrel, but he didn't believe that one for a second. There was expectant pause as his parents waited hopefully; he maintained an expression of utter confusion. 

Finally, and amazingly, it was Arthur who caved. "Son, we know about you and Neville Longbottom." 

There wasn't anything resembling food left in Ron's mouth, so his body compensated by attempting to choke him death on his own spit. He was going to be killing himself after this conversation anyway, so he may as well get a good start on things. 

Molly took advantage of her son's misguided suicide attempt to babble on about her devotion to him and how it was all right to be 'that way', speaking with such sugar coated sincerity that even Arthur looked ready to gag. 

Ron finally got himself under control enough to shout "It's *not* what you think!" He flinched as soon as that was out. No, that didn't sound guilty, not at all. 

"Really! It was just…just a dare! That's all!" He continued desperately, not at all reassured when his parents just sighed sadly. 

"Ron, you don't have to hide anymore---" Molly began again, ready to repeat her planned speech. 

"I'm not hiding anything! There's nothing to hide---" 

"---We understand completely----" 

"---I *like* girls! Really I do----" 

"---Neville is a perfectly nice boy---" 

"---I've been on dates, you've met the girls I've dated!" 

"Yes honey," Molly said indulgently when Ron stopped to catch his breath, "I do remember. But I know those were just for show. You don't have to torture yourself anymore. Look," she chimed suddenly, "I brought some wonderful books for us to read together!" 

Out of apparently no where, Molly produced a stack of books with titles like 'Coming Out: The Parent's Guide' and 'Love No Matter What: Accepting Your Gay Child'. Ron crawled over the back of the couch to escape them. Unnoticed by either of them, Arthur was slowly inching his way to the nearest exit. He's devotion to wife and family was slowly reaching its limit---surely there was a nice vacuum cleaner around somewhere that he could be studying... 

"You're not listening to me!" 

"I know Ron, I haven't been listening, but I am now and---" 

"---I like girls! I love girls! I'm not gay, and---" 

"---I want to invite Neville over to dinner sometime---" 

"---even if I was I'd have better taste than *that*---" 

"---we could meet his Granny and---" 

"---it was just part of Hermione's stupid plan---" 

Arthur moved closer to the door. Almost there... 

"---I'll make my special apple fritters---" 

"---always wanted girls, always *will* want girls----" 

"---you can wear that new robe from Christmas---" 

"---hell, I've even gotten a girl---" Ron clapped his hands over his mouth in shock at his own stupidity. An action that caused his mother to fall suddenly silent and even Arthur paused his sidewise creep out the door. 

A chill settled over the room. Nobody even twitched when Ginny started to enter the living room before sensing the air of eminent homicide and changed her mind, fleeing in the opposite direction. 

"Gotten a girl what, dear?" Molly said with the sweetness of a honey-coated dagger. Ron began to sweat. 

"A…a…a jumper! Yes, I one time got a girl---Hermione actually, she can swear to it---a jumper. A very, very, very nice one and she absolute loved it and say, aren't we going to invite Neville to dinner? I'll just pop right upstairs and get that invitation written!" 

Ron ran like the rabbit before the hound. Arthur used this chance to complete his own escape, certain that whatever happened next, he'd be much happier if it didn't involve him. Molly continued to sit very, very still. Something was fishy here and it wasn't just her youngest son's confused sexuality. She would find out what it was and she did… 

A dark light flashed in Molly Weasley's eyes as she went to set out Christmas leftovers for dinner. 

____________________________ 

"I love Draco Malfoy." 

"Well isn't that just wonderful for him! But nobody loves me, poor miserable moaning Myrtle…" The ghost trailed off into her usual wail of heartrending despair, before taking a nosedive into the nearest toilet. 

"Harry, stop baiting her," Hermione said wearily from one of the stalls. 

"Not my fault she's so sensitive," he said, wincing in sympathy when Hermione heaved again. "It all those strange foods you've been eating recently, you know that don't you?" 

She suggested he go do something very obscene and very painful with himself. Harry just rolled his eyes---like he could find a cantaloupe this time of year---and went to find a towel to wash her face with. 

_______________ 

"I'm in love with Professor Snape." 

Seamus and Dean both choked violently on their drinks. Which was quite an accomplishment on Dean's part considering he wasn't drinking anything. 

Neville looked somewhat put out by their reactions. "What?" he said. 

"A-are you insane?!" Seamus demanded between coughing, "Professor Snape?? The Head of Slytherin? The bloody git intent on causing us Gryffindor's pain and suffering at every given opportunity? The bastard who utterly *hates* you?" 

The round faced boy shifted uneasily. "Yes," he said, with somewhat less conviction than his first statement. Seeming to gather courage from who-knows-where, Neville lifted his chin. "What's wrong with that?" 

Seamus slapped himself in the face. Dean, like the well trained best friend he was, deftly took up the argument. "What *isn't* wrong with that? How can you even *like* someone who treats you like that? There hasn't been a single class where he didn't find some reason to torment you." 

"He can get rather mean..." Neville admitted haltingly, before brightening, "But you know, that's part of what I like about him. It's really amazing the way he can make students pee themselves in terror." A dreamy expression covered his face. 

Dean twitched. 

"But he's so ugly!" Seamus protested. Neville shook himself out of his daze and scowled. 

"Not at all! Maybe he's not classically handsome, but he is *quite* attractive," he said, his voice warming with the subject. "His face has such character in it…just the sound of his voice can inspire fear and loathing… he has the most beautiful, vicious black eyes…the hate in them makes me just shiver…and his *body*---" 

"NO!" cried Neville's unwilling audience, covering their ears in matching disgust and horror. 

Dean was suddenly afflicted with a terrible mental image of Neville serving detention under the Potions Master--- 

He was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing a cauldron while Professor Snape stood over him imperiously, demanding that he do it harder, faster. Neville obeyed, brush working with increasing fury over the heavy iron. Snape kept yelling orders and Neville kept yelling "Yes sir!" back, both getting louder and more worked up, until finally, the Professor pounced the cowering student. They went at it like mad ferrets. Snape kept howling "Ten points from Gryffindor!" the entire time. 

His mind refused to endure the suffering any further and in a heroic act of self-preservation, completely wiped the last twenty minutes from memory. 

Seamus, meanwhile, was asking in shock, "You mean all this time, you actually *liked* it when he insulted and tortured and humiliated you?" 

"Um, yes," Neville said, much in the same way someone might admit to a secret desire to swimming in lime jello. He blushed like a schoolgirl with a crush and fiddled with his quill. 

"Right," Seamus bit out tersely, "Right. Very important rule here, Longbottom. We are never discussing this again, do you understand? Never! If you ever get the urge to share your love life with us...don't! Right Dean?" 

"What were we talking about?" 

"Nevermind. You understand me, Neville?" 

Longbottom sighed in obvious regret. "Yes." 

"Good. Just...good." 

Silence reined for several long minutes, broken only by the scratch of quills on paper. Finally, curiosity won out over caution. 

"Neville? I do got one question though," Seamus ventured nervously, "Nothing about Snape, mind you. Never again! But I have to know, what happened with you and Ron?" 

"Oh that," Neville waved it off. "It wasn't anything serious, just a kiss and run. Turns out he was only using me to get back at Harry. Lest wise that's what Hermione said." 

"That's awful!" 

"Isn't it just? And seeing as how *he* was the one that went and cheated on Harry..." 

_____________________________ 

"I'm in love with---" 

"Harry, if you do not shut up and return to your essay right this instant, I'll be forced to transform you into a constipated hamster. And I may not change you back." 

"…yes Hermione." 

_____________________________ 

"I love unicorns." 

A deep, rumbling sigh echoed out. "I love dragons, too. And Centuars. And gargoyles and goblins and hippogrifs---especially them---and dogs and cats, o' course, and certain kinds of Trolls, and giant spiders, and snakes, and…" 

The list continued. A glaze had long since settled over McGonagall's eyes. She wondered if Hagrid even realized that she was no longer listening. Her gaze drifted away from the massive man, sliding slowly down along the staff table until it reached someone far more interesting. 

Bright, dark eyes set above a sharply defined nose met hers and glimmered with promise. A warm tingle of excitement ran up her spine. 

Hagrid was still talking, his voice intruding upon her impromptu fantasy. "…glastings and kelpies and giant spiders and a brownie or two---" 

"I happen to love short men," Professor McGonagall spoke up in her precise, dignified way, "Preferably ones who are the perfect height to fit under my robes and have big noses." She fixed him with a penetrating glare. 

Hagrid went pale, then turned bright red. "Oh." She could see his eyes flick toward the other end of the staff table, where a certain Charms teacher sat. "Oh." 

He went back to his meal. 

"Hm." Professor McGonagall smiled a small, restrained smile, and enjoyed the rest of her dinner in wonderful silence. 

______________________ 

"I love the morning post." 

"I need to get you out more," Harry said, shaking his head in mock regret. 

"So says the Boy Who Was Raised In A Closet," Hermione snorted back, shifted through the letters and newspapers the owl had dropped on her head that morning. 

"What did Madame Promfrey have to say about your," Harry paused significantly, "'Stomach flu'?" 

She suggested his parents hadn't been married before he was born. He laughed. 

"Oh look, a letter from Ron," Hermione said, changing the subject. She tore it open and read through it quickly. 

"Did he have a nice Christmas?" Harry asked, smearing honey on his toast. 

"Doesn't say anything about that," she said, brow furrowing in confusion, "He just keeps going on about a jumper he got me and that I really loved it. Has Ron ever gotten me a jumper?" 

"Well, he's gotten you one thing, that's for sure," Harry answered distractedly, looking toward the front of the hall to see if a certain blonde haired prat had gotten back from vacation yet. "But I don't recall a jumper." 

"He gets more loony with each year, I swear..." 

"Hopefully its not genetic---" Harry yelped as he was kicked painfully in the shins. 

__________________________ 

"Meow." 

Flich's crooked, stained teeth were displayed in a wide grin. "I love you too, Mrs. Norris." 

_________________ 

End  
Thank god. 


End file.
